I'D last visited the Garddfon one afternoon in late winter, when only whitecaps raced up Menai Strait, driven by a squally westerly. On the humid, hazy July evening when my two children, their spouses and I did the Taste Test, there were hundreds of boats bobbing lazily on waters still streaked with the dregs of the previous week's oil slick.

The Garddfon is primarily an old-fashioned pub with a long history and an unashamedly sea-faring theme. It's a bit scruffy, wholly unpretentious and, out of season at least, always seems to me slightly suspicious of strangers, in the manner of all good locals.

During the season the clientele is pretty cosmopolitan, which perhaps accounts for the excellent bar. Pub-grub is served all day. The Bistro opens for lunch and dinner, and when I booked the table several days in advance there were only a few dinner slots left.

The Bistro menu, while catering for every requirement, is not overly ambitious. My young in-laws began with homemade soup. My son chose king prawns. I had pate.

The soup, served with fresh bread, disappeared in satisfied silence. My pate, with fresh toast and salad, was light and delicious.

After we three had finished my son was still tearing apart his prawns, alternately licking fingers and chops. He'd saved the biggest and juiciest until last, but it leapt off the plate and onto the floor, depriving him of the pleasure.

My daughter, chauffeuring for the evening, deprived herself of a drink. The others ordered white wine, beer and Irish cider.

After making myself ill, yet again, with just a glass of Merlot at the last Taste Test (I'm sure my liver is short on alcohol-metabolising enzymes), I'd resolved never to touch another drop.

Earlier in the day, however, I'd bashed my head so hard with a ladder that I was still seeing stars at the Garddfon, and I forgot. So I quaffed a bottle of Irish cider - and very nice it was too.

Our main courses were Welsh lamb, cod, Thai chicken stir-fry and chicken supreme, served with a variety of obviously fresh, and freshly-cooked, vegetables.

Every dish was perfectly presented, generously proportioned and absolutely delicious, fish and meat melting in the mouth.

The gravy accompanying the lamb was made from meat juices and was of haute-cuisine standard. I could happily have eaten two servings.

For pudding we had creme caramel, toffee pudding with hot sauce, chocolate fudge cake and a concoction of strawberries and meringue.

I know the infants are thoroughly absorbed in their food when they stop talking and, as with the main courses, the puddings were largely eaten in silence.

Having corralled them into doing a Taste Test, I always feel &#x2013; with that eternal guilt which afflicts all parents &#x2013; responsible for their enjoyment. "Well?" I asked, gesturing at the empty dishes.

Son-in-law said: "Fantastic!" Daughter-in-law added: "Lovely!". My two offspring, respectively mistress and master of understatement, actually ventured to commit themselves to unqualified praise &#x2013; as far as the food was concerned, that is.

A Taste Test isn't just about food but the whole experience. Although the Bistro is in a separate room, it's close enough to the bar &#x2013; which is generally busy &#x2013; to share the bustle.

The decor is less cosy than in the rest of the building and tiled floors tend to add to the clatter.

The two lasses who served us could not have been more pleasant or helpful, but there was, I think, some problem in the kitchen.

Only one dish of vegetables arrived with the main courses and we had to wait far too long for more, so that our meat and fish were getting cold. Puddings also came in fits and starts.

Despite the quality of the food, it spoilt our enjoyment and could, for some people, well deter a repeat visit.

Bistro and bar share one lot of loos. The ladies, although a bit cramped, was clean and tidy. The gents, my son reported, was a disgrace, with rubbish and cigarette ends in the urinals, a sopping wet floor and no toilet rolls. Not nice.